


The Distance Between Us

by LookingGlasstothePast



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multiple name tags are for personal reasons, Online Friendship, Pen Pals, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingGlasstothePast/pseuds/LookingGlasstothePast
Summary: Life can always be difficult, and sometimes finding someone who sees your life better than you can is the catalyst for a much brighter view. For some, the help is accepted readily, for others, it becomes much harder. Baia or Marseille, it's times like those that distance doesn't really matter.





	

Life isn't ever fair, it takes and takes to only give the barest amount of kindnesses. That was something I had believed in my whole life, never faltering in my conviction, cold against the world. And then to my surprise, life gave me you.

 

It was one of those online pen pal sites, a place for 'lonely' people like me to meet and talk to people, but I never wanted to. You chased after me, a single little request, and I only pushed against you, away from you. Though, you always were a glutton for punishment. A 'monster,' you gave me tender words, the 'beast' to my beauty. The people who called you that simply couldn't see the truth; you were the real beauty. You begged me for life, I screamed at you for death, and hundreds of miles away, you knew there wasn't much you could do.  
  
Ah, but online, you were my everything, and dear god, you knew it. Never would you let me be without your affection and care. But, you knew I didn't want it, and that, I could see from your letters and emails, was absolutely killing you. I guess I always knew that. And yet, every message seemed more helpful, hopeful than the last from you. You were trying to keep me living. All of your stories... they made the Atlantic disappear, and you were here beside me. When I finally caved in and gave you my number, you called me on the spot, and your first words were about how beautiful my voice was, how happy you were to finally _hear_ me.  
  
I finally believed you.  
  
We talked for hours, that first call, like we hadn't been sending letters, emails, and instant messages back and forth for months, like it was the first time we'd ever spoken to each other in our lives. We made our grandfathers so angry with how late we were up, and you laughed it off. And...  
  
You told me you loved me.  
  
Finally, I could hear the sheer admiration in your voice as you reminded me that I had made it through another day. Like I was honestly something to be revered and loved. Like I wasn't another burden on my family and the world. Oh, god, you made me feel so fucking _special.  
_

It took months of those phone calls before I felt brave enough to say it back, but my voice still shook because I was still so afraid that you were going to laugh that beautiful laugh of yours and tell me that you were joking with me. Again, you surprised me. I wanted to feel that smile you held in your voice against my cheek or neck, feel the soft laugh and the warm hug that you so desperately wanted to give me. For once in my life, I was craving everything you'd spoken to me about.   
  
It was then that we exchanged proper pictures. You were grinning in yours, a smile I certainly expected out of you if your voice was anything to go by. It was almost nerve-wracking waiting to hear what you were going to think about me, but, I certainly wasn't expecting what it was you were planning on saying. Not handsome, not beautiful, oh no. Those never seemed good enough to you, were they? You called me _angelic_ of all things, like you couldn't see the burn scar on my arm, the fact my face in that picture was covered in flour, and I could see the little bit of egg that dangled from my cheek.  
  
You reassured me that the burn didn't look as bad as I imagined, and if anything, showed my strength around fire. You laughed and said that was good, because you were anything but a calm flame. It was that night when you called again that I told you everything, and I was sure that you would hate me. Every little scar, from my hands down to my ankles that I had kept secret for so long, was no longer a secret to you. I was giving you everything, and I was afraid that you'd keep taking and taking until there wasn't anything left of me, then you'd leave me. But something about you kept me pushing and pushing to try to keep you. Maybe it was the light that you were showing from so many miles away.  
  
Months turned into years, and fears turned into memories, though you knew I was still cautious of you, still cautious of giving in and just letting you have every little piece of my heart, everything that you honestly deserved for staying so faithful to me from so far away. You told me stories of the girls who begged you for your love, the boys who claimed they were better than me, how you, in all your bliss, showed them my picture and told them that nobody could understand you more. I didn't understand what it was that you meant by that. You told me that I would soon enough, but first, you had to go away for a little while. There was something you were going to go and do, and I could only get a hold of you by a phone that dropped calls so many times that I wondered if I would ever know that you were alright again. I was scared that you would be found dead, or tell me that you'd found someone else, or worse than that.  
  
It was raining in Marseille that day, cold and wet, and my mood could only match up to it. I hadn't heard from you in a few days, you told me you were somewhere with a lot of tunnels, and that if we kept trying to talk while you were on the train, we'd just keep cutting out. Not being able to talk to you on my breaks was getting unbearable, I couldn't go smoke outside because of the rain, and I was becoming more and more irate with the customers, I just wanted the day to end. And then a text message, from you I was glad to see, asking me to step out front. I thought you were crazy, with the way the rain was coming down, I was amazed. Were you trying to describe me to another person? Were they waiting out there for me? Did you have friends here who may have known me?  
  
Out into the rain I went, almost wishing the second I stepped out that I'd at least grabbed my coat, a white shirt in the rain... it was absolutely dumb. The crash of thunder scared me, but it was the lightning that gave me the answer to why you wanted me to come outside in this mess. Black hair was stuck to tanned skin, a once crisp jacket stuck to broad shoulders, dark shorts, that bright orange cowboy hat... It really was you.   
  
I've never run for anything in my life, you know that much. I watched with stinging eyes as yours widened, nearly dropping your bag to make sure you'd catch me, that neither of us would slip on these damn sidewalks that I know I've told you so much about. Your arms, I've always wondered how'd they would feel wrapped around my shoulders like this. It's been four years, but I can finally feel your smile against my cheek, against my neck, and finally I don't have to listen to your voice over the static of an old home phone or a crappy cell phone. It's almost hard to hear over the pounding of the rain, harsh against the street, but nothing has ever sounded more like home.  
  
"Hey, Sanji. I told you I'd come, didn't I?"  
  
That promise...you'd made it four years ago, our first conversation...  
  
If you knew I was crying at that point, you didn't say.   
  
  
Just like I'll never say that I've never smiled that big before. But it's been nice smiling like that since.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first thing I had ever finished and posted online, and there is fanart for this by Nezkovsou here- http://nezkovsou.tumblr.com/post/117822225500/the-distance-between-us-acesan-drabble-by Which I love to absolute death.


End file.
